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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313788">Peach Bubbles and Cherry Wine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnocchi_ghoul/pseuds/gnocchi_ghoul'>gnocchi_ghoul</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shall We Date?: Obey Me!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathtub Sex, Biting, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingerfucking, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, domestic lucifer is my current muse (insert kermit dancing gif)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:28:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25313788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnocchi_ghoul/pseuds/gnocchi_ghoul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring.<br/>“Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”<br/>~<br/>((you and Lucifer get tipsy and have bath sex))</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>344</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Peach Bubbles and Cherry Wine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don’t move.”</p><p>“If I don’t I’ll <em> drown!</em>” </p><p>“Just—<em>fuck, </em> here.” Lucifer hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you up, just slightly out of the water. He straightens out his legs, still holding you up with the ease of a bodybuilder lifting an orange, and yeah, you’re a little bit jealous at how strong he is.</p><p>Warm water closes around your hips as he gently lowers you back into his lap, and you can’t help but think about all of the things you could accomplish if <em> you </em> had that supernatural strength. For instance: you could <em> probably </em> lift a car, all by yourself. Or a really heavy bookcase. A sturdy one, made from really expensive wood. Pink ivorywood. <em>Dalbergia. </em> Or—</p><p>Oh, what is <em>wrong </em>with you? Who even cares about all of the theoretical things you could do with unimaginable strength when you are literally butt ass naked in a tub with Lucifer! And you accomplished this all on your own, with only the vastly underrated power of puppy eyes. </p><p>Also, wine. <em> So much wine.  </em></p><p>You swirl what’s left in your glass—the red liquid twisting in a dark vortex. It swallows up the dim light of the bathroom—looks more black than red. You know that color intimately. It’s nearly the same shade as Lucifer’s eyes—gleaming bright in the dark room as he dripped cherry wine into the hollow of your belly button—lapped at the red juice with his fleshy tongue and got you all sticky.</p><p>Which is how you ended up here, lounging together in warm, bubbly water. Not that you’re complaining.</p><p>Honestly, if you had known how nice Lucifer's personal bathroom is, you would have set out on your quest to date <strike>bone</strike> him <em> so </em>much sooner. </p><p>It’s a lot like his room—far too much black. All doom and gloom and gold metal. Black floors. Black walls, carved of marble with gold veining, and a few floor to ceiling mirrors. The ceiling is a dizzying mural, saturated with (you guessed it) <em> more </em> black, but white and gray too. Sometimes, if you stare long enough—you think you can see shapes dancing in the fog of it. </p><p>(Though that may just be a hallucination conjured up by your alcohol addled brain.)</p><p>The best thing about Lucifer’s bathroom though, by a landslide, is the massive tub situated right in the center of the room. Carved entirely of smoky quartz and the size of a small pool, you could quite literally spend hours lazing around in bubble bath bliss. Which you do, quite often. It’s borderline an obsession at this point.</p><p>(The first time you commandeered the bathtub, you had read an entire book in one sitting—as you were finishing up the last chapter, Lucifer had burst into the room all feathery and freaked out and totally convinced that you had managed to somehow drown yourself. A fair assumption—in his defense, you <em> had </em>been awfully quiet.)</p><p>With a tub like this, you would <em> never </em> use the shower again. And yet, for some horrible and awful reason, Lucifer insists that the shower is better. (Which is actually quite nice as well, but that’s neither here nor there.) When you had interrogated him about it, he just casually confessed that he hardly ever used the beautiful tub. Said something about '<em>showers are just more practical’</em>. Pah. What does <em> he </em> know? Nothing, apparently.</p><p>But now? Well, it isn’t a challenge to coax him in with you.</p><p>Lucifer tips his head back against the cool ledge of the tub, eyes sliding shut. “Who’s idea was this anyways?” </p><p>You down the rest of your wine, scrunching your face like an accordion when the bitter flavor bursts on your tongue. “Yours.” </p><p>“That can’t be right.”</p><p>“Well it’s not left."</p><p>Lucifer groans loudly, acting like your totally great joke caused him real physical pain, and you <em> tch </em> at him.</p><p>You lean into him—rest the back of your head on his shoulder and set your empty wineglass aside on the broad, flat rim of the tub. His right arm snakes around your waist, tugging you up tight against his chest, fingertips tracing shapes into the side of your ribs and sending shivers racing across your skin.</p><p>You eye the mountain of white bubbles in front of you—lift a poofy handful out of the water. The smell of peaches brightens the room—all sun kissed and sweet.</p><p>You wonder if Lucifer is drunk enough to let you give him a bubble beard. </p><p>"Hey, babe—"</p><p>"Don't even think about it." </p><p>"<em>Wh</em>—you don’t even know what I was going to say!" </p><p>Lucifer nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Keep the bubbles away from my face."</p><p>"...You’re such a killjoy sometimes." </p><p>“Am I?” He threads his fingers through your hair—pulls slowly to tilt your head to the side and ghosts his lips over your neck, pausing to nip at your pulse point. Slides one hand over your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his soft fingers.</p><p>You feel it again, then—the pleasant ache still between your thighs, softened by the water's warmth settling into your body.</p><p>Lucifer bites down on your neck with sharp incisors, pulling a soft mewl from you.</p><p>You squirm. “Again?” </p><p>You’re not actually surprised. Saturdays are devoted just to the two of you—marathon fucking and unwinding from the weekly chaos. It’s a necessary tradition, especially after a week like this previous one. You had barely seen your beloved, thanks to his <em> boyfriend </em> keeping him busy <em> . </em> </p><p>(Lu has made it <em> very </em> clear that Diavolo isn’t his side piece, but like. Would it really be <em> that </em> bad if he was? You could invite him over for your Saturday Fuckfest, which is a <em> very </em> appealing thought. Who <em> wouldn’t </em>want a piece of that princely cake?)</p><p>“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”</p><p><em> Fuck</em>. He sure as hell doesn’t need to tell you twice.</p><p>His fingertips skate down your stomach, deftly moving lower to brush teasingly over your clit and your head lolls back with a strangled little mewl. You turn to the side—he captures your lips with his own, swallows down your little cries. Tastes like cherry wine and dark chocolate. </p><p>It’s too much, and not nearly enough. The damp slick of his chest against your bare back, his hand cupping your breast. He toys with you slowly, teasingly, pressing only the lightest of touches to your clit, and you want—<em>need</em>—more. You rock your hips back, right up against his aching cock and he hisses—pinches your nipple and slips his fingers inside of you in tandem, stretching you wide and exploring as you desperately grind against his hand.</p><p>He spent all day teasing you—pushing you to the brink and then taking his sweet time unraveling you. Playing you like a finely tuned instrument until tears pricked at your eyes and you dissolved into a begging, whimpering puddle. That fire still burns in your belly—kindled back to life, red hot and unforgiving as he presses his fingers deeper inside of you.</p><p>When it comes to fucking, Lucifer is far more patient than you are—something he’s proven a thousand times over. He enjoys it—breaking you. Ruining you. Pushing you to the brink and leaving you there, time and time again. </p><p>But right now—you want more than just his skillful fingers.</p><p>You squirm out of Lucifer’s grip, confusing him for all of two seconds, until you turn around and straddle his strong thighs. Bubbles stick to your arms and tummy like little clouds. </p><p>“I want you inside me.” you pout.</p><p>“Was I just not?” he says, cheekily, and you glare.</p><p>He suddenly bucks his hips up once into your own, threatening your already questionable balance—nearly sends you careening face first into his shoulder. Sudsy water sloshes over the dark rim of the tub as you steady yourself by placing both hands on his chest. You glare at his smug fucking face. </p><p>His eyes, vibrant and jarring, meet yours—sparkling with delight. Crimson shot through with so much black that you’re not sure where the pupil ends anymore. </p><p>You grab his chin with your slick hand—dig your fingers into his jaw and pull him into a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and heat. Relish the taste of his mouth and the slide of his lips, wordlessly begging for what you want.</p><p>He grins against your mouth. “Such a needy little thing.” </p><p>You don’t entertain him with a reply—just grind your hips down on his cock, catching your throbbing clit, leaving you keening.</p><p>He sucks the plush of your bottom lip into his mouth and <em> bites </em> as you sink down on the heavy weight of cock, inch by agonizing inch until he’s buried to the hilt. He murmurs praise against your lips as he fills your pussy to the brim—sends white hot sparks shooting up your spine. You burn. </p><p>Experimentally, you roll your hips. Lucifer meets you halfway—always does. Grinds his hips languidly into yours, easing the painful stretch of his cock between your walls into a pleasant fullness. There’s no urgency—he’s already ravaged your sweet, tight cunt. </p><p>Lucifer feasts on your mewls—swallows them whole as he thrusts his hips up, sloshing more water over the tub rim. His hands dig into your hip as he grinds up into you with sharp, short jabs—buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard. Draws blood to the surface and lingers there. Leaves behind berry-red marks. </p><p>Your nipples rub against his chest and you grip his shoulders—dig your nails into the taut, firm lines of muscle. Your thighs tremble as you bounce on his cock, rocking down faster—needy. </p><p>Heat spirals and coils in your belly, winding tighter and tighter until your blood is singing with it, leaving you breathless and dizzy and alight. He snakes a hand down between your legs—fingers finding your clit and your hips spasm, squeezing him so tight that it pulls a hiss from him.</p><p>Your climax hits you hard—steals your breath away and makes your vision all fuzzy and dark. Your walls clench and Lucifer pulls your hips down, again and again and again, spurred on by your gasping and whimpering. Dragging your tight, warm pussy on his pulsating cock as he floods your womb with his seed.</p><p>As his cock softens inside of you, he releases that bruising grip on your hips—tugs you into a close embrace with absolutely no possibility of escape, squishing your slippery breasts against his chest. Heart drumming a furious beat beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his arms. </p><p>For a few beats, it’s silent. You can tell that he wants to say something—he’s practically buzzing with words unspoken.</p><p>You lean back to see his face properly and tap the pad of your pointer finger against his chest. “Out with it, handsome.” </p><p>“You know that I love you.” A statement, followed up by a softer, “Right?”</p><p>A smile tugs at your lips. <em> As if that’s even a question. </em> </p><p>“Well I'd certainly hope so, because you're stuck with me. <em> Forever</em>.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth slide upwards into that dazzling grin you love so damn much. Then he shifts his hips, reminding you that he's still very much inside of you, and nudges his cock over that little patch inside of you that makes you see sparks but is also<em> far </em> too sensitive right now. Your breath leaves you in one great big <em> whoosh </em>and you bite down hard on your swollen lip.</p><p>"You're so mean." </p><p>Lucifer hums in agreement, looking far too thrilled by your reaction. Presses a kiss to your jaw and murmurs, "Say it back."  </p><p>"What?" </p><p>He leans back. Searches out your gaze and meets it with his own. "Say that you love me." </p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>You would think he'd be reassured by the fact that his dick is literally still inside you, but… you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to use your words, too. </p><p>You hold his hand—link your pinky finger with his own and say, "I love you."</p><p>It's a promise. </p><p>You relax back into his arms, content to just sit quietly amidst the peach-scented bubbles and confessions.</p><p>
  <em> …For about ten seconds. </em>
</p><p>“So… About that bubble beard…”</p><p>Lucifer scoffs. Presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there. </p><p>He really does love you.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was inspired by a convo (about what Lucifer’s bathroom might look like) with @thedemonstherapist, and a drunk anon :D </p><p>come hang out with me on tumblr @gnocchighoul -- i've got some smutty hcs and whatnot on there~</p><p>kudos and comments are very much appreciated&lt;3 (this is my first time writing proper smut so please be gentle lol)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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